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<h1><a href="https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313109">Reverse Trials</a> by <a class='authorlink' href='https://archiveofourown.org/users/bongbingbong/pseuds/bongbingbong'>bongbingbong</a></h1>

<table class="full">

<tr><td><b>Category:</b></td><td>Star Trek: Deep Space Nine, Star Trek: The Original Series</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Genre:</b></td><td>Gen, M/M, Minor mental health talk, Mostly fluff and nonsense, doctors doing doctor things</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Language:</b></td><td>English</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Status:</b></td><td>In-Progress</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Published:</b></td><td>2020-09-06</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Updated:</b></td><td>2020-09-13</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Packaged:</b></td><td>2021-05-06 10:54:08</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Rating:</b></td><td>Teen And Up Audiences</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Warnings:</b></td><td>No Archive Warnings Apply</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Chapters:</b></td><td>3</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Words:</b></td><td>12,031</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Publisher:</b></td><td>archiveofourown.org</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Story URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/works/26313109</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Author URL:</b></td><td>https://archiveofourown.org/users/bongbingbong/pseuds/bongbingbong</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Summary:</b></td><td><div class="userstuff">
              <p>“Captain,” said Jadzia breathlessly. Another bad sign. Sisko braced himself.<br/>“Tell me,” he said.<br/>“The Enterprise is requesting docking permission.”<br/>“The Enterprise? They left here two weeks ago, they should be halfway across the quadrant at this point, I didn’t think they were-”<br/>“Not that Enterprise,” said Jadzia quietly. Sisko stared.<br/>“What are you talking about? There’s only one-”<br/>“The original Enterprise. Sir.” </p><p>The TOS crew accidentally end up on DS9. Shenanigans ensue. Doctor McCoy finds himself accidentally adopting a CMO whom he insists is basically still a child. The 24th century discovers that sometimes meaning can be lost in the passing down of legends.</p>
            </div></td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Relationships:</b></td><td>James T. Kirk/Spock</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Comments:</b></td><td>56</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Kudos:</b></td><td>132</td></tr>

<tr><td><b>Collections:</b></td><td>Deep Space Discord Literary Universe</td></tr>

</table>

<a name="section0001"><h2>1. Chapter 1</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="fff_chapter_notes fff_head_notes"><b>Author's Note:</b><blockquote class="userstuff">
      <p>I know it says "self insert" and "friend insert" but there's very little of the DSD crew so far while I set everything up. I guarantee you they will be butting their heads into literally everything in the next chapter, though.</p>
    </blockquote></div><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>“Progress report, Chief.”</p><p>“Terrible, Captain.”</p><p>Chief O’Brien straightened up from where he was crouched behind Jadzia’s station in ops. The console had refused to allow her to clock in this morning, and had flashed several times, then fizzled out of commission completely, refusing to even show the display. </p><p>“You’ve been at this for hours now, what’s the hold up?” said Sisko, hovering uncomfortably close. O’Brien took a deep breath.</p><p>“It’s not a problem with the computer, sir, it’s… well, there’s components missing.”</p><p>Sisko took a moment to process this.</p><p>“You mean… somebody’s stolen… parts of the computer?”</p><p>“It would appear so.”</p><p>Sisko hesitated for a moment, squashing down the momentary jolt of panic that rose in his chest. Stealing from ops? From right under their noses? That was not a good sign.</p><p>“It’s the third time this week, too,” continued O’Brien, “I’ve had techs report parts missing from computer components in the habitat ring, and in one of the docking rings.”</p><p>“And you didn’t think to report this to me until now?” snapped Sisko, then paused. He took another deep breath. </p><p>“My apologies.”</p><p>“Don’t worry about it sir, it’s that kind of a week.”</p><p>The look they gave each other wasn’t quite a smile, but there was the camaraderie of sharing a sigh at what promised to be another trying week. As if that hadn’t been enough, the sounds of footsteps clanging against the metal floors was approaching - the sound of someone running. Running meant urgency, and urgency meant-</p><p>“Captain,” said Jadzia breathlessly. Another bad sign. Sisko braced himself.</p><p>“Tell me,” he said.</p><p>“The Enterprise is requesting docking permission.”</p><p>“The Enterprise? They left here two weeks ago, they should be halfway across the quadrant at this point, I didn’t think they were-”</p><p>“Not that Enterprise,” said Jadzia quietly. Sisko stared.</p><p>“What are you talking about? There’s only one-”</p><p>“The <em> original </em> Enterprise. Sir.” </p><p>Images flashed through Sisko’s mind, of ill fitting uniform shirts, garish colour schemes, rifling through piles and piles of softly trilling little fuzzy creatures.</p><p>“You’ve got to be kidding me. No, actually you know what? This might as well happen at this point. Open a hailing frequency, let’s see what’s going on.”</p><p>Sisko made a beeline for the screen, so he missed the answering mixture of confusion and amusement on Jadzia’s face. The screen flickered to life and - damned if it wasn’t the face of Captain James T Kirk. Sisko’s heart stopped. He hadn’t thought this through, and now he was suddenly faced with dealing with this… with <em> him </em>-</p><p>“S-sir - ah, Captain-Sir… Kirk! Captain. Kirk.”</p><p>“Oh good, you know who I am, that’s a start.” The voice coming through was warm and friendly. Kirk was sprawled in his chair, at ease now that they were sure they weren’t anywhere hostile. </p><p>“Well yes - I’m a big… well, that is to say, I’m familiar with you. Well, not personally - I just-”<br/>“Listen, er-” Kirk shifted uneasily in his seat and - oh god he looked <em> exactly </em> like he remembered, like he did in the photographs and the textbooks and the <em> statue </em>...</p><p>“Sisko!” Sisko caught himself, scrambling to regain his professionalism, “Captain! Captain Sisko. Of Starfleet.”</p><p>Kirk blinked once, the only indication that he had been thrown off by this information.</p><p>“That answers my next question somewhat, actually. Captain Sisko of Starfleet… where, or should I say, <em> when </em> are we?”</p><p>“Stardate 50032.2, sir. That is to say - ah - welcome to the twenty-fourth century.”</p><p>Kirk nodded, and his easy posture seemed to deflate a little. Now that Sisko’s initial surprise was wearing off, he noticed that Kirk and the rest of his officers did seem a little worse for wear, all of them disheveled, bruised, and scraped up. In the background of the bridge, something was still smoking. </p><p>“We’ve taken some pretty heavy damage here, but it looks like we’re in luck - requesting permission to dock, and use your facilities to regroup so was can attempt to get back?”</p><p>Sisko opened his mouth to say something like “hell yes,” or “absolutely,” or maybe even “all of my wildest dreams are coming true right this very moment and I would very much like to invite you for dinner so we can talk,” but luckily what came out was a very simple:</p><p>“Permission granted.”</p><p>*</p><p>Kira Nerys had heard about this Kirk fellow. Mostly from Sisko, but it was hard to work among Starfleet officers and not hear some reference to Kirk peppered into day-to-day conversations. Terrans were very fond of referring to any kind of poorly-executed physical combat as “Kirk-Fu,” and anyone who was a casual rule-breaker was referred to as “a bit of a Kirk.” The part she was most worried about, though, was the tendency for men blatantly flaunting their sexuality at women being referred to as “doing a Kirk.” If she was going to meet the source of all of these references now, she particularly did not want to have to deal with that one.</p><p>She brought Ahna along to the staff briefing with her. There was no explanation needed there - Ahna took one look at her stiff-backed stance while she was making her request, and dropped everything to come with her. They entered the room with their heads held high, looking in the general direction of the three crewmen - one in blue, one in red, and one in gold - who were sitting in the meeting room with them. Of the DS9 staff, Sisko had also brought Jadzia and Worf along. Kira and Ahna sat down at the other end of the table, waiting.</p><p>The fellow in the red shirt was staring, seemingly perturbed by the appearance of their staff. It made Kira’s skin prickle. Blue shirt was a Vulcan - most likely Ambassador Spock, although Kira had never met him. Gold shirt was seated next to Sisko, so that must be-</p><p>“Captain Kirk,” said Jadzia, smiling and extending a hand, which Kirk shook warmly.</p><p>“I’m afraid you have me at a loss,” he replied.</p><p>“Jadzia Dax,” she said. Kirk’s eyes narrowed as some kind of recollection flitted across the back of his mind, but he seemed to push the thought away.</p><p>“Lovely to meet you.”</p><p>Kira tensed in anticipation for whatever was about to come next, but then Kirk turned back to Sisko.</p><p>“I can’t tell you how grateful I am for your help here - it’s really a stroke of luck that we’ve ended up in Federation space. Although by the looks of things I suppose there’s much more of the Federation here than there is where I’m from.”</p><p>“We’re not <em> in </em> Federation space, Captain,” said Kira, “the Federation has a presence here, but you’re in the Bajoran sector.”</p><p>“The Bajoran sector,” repeated Kirk, “my apologies.”</p><p>“Captain,” said Sisko, “are you sure you’re confident that your ship will be able to timewarp effectively back to your own time? And your own star system?”</p><p>“Well,” said Kirk, “the wormhole is like a door right? We can just go back the way we came.”</p><p>Next to him, Spock shifted in his seat, the closest the Vulcan ever got to squirming.</p><p>“That is not entirely accurate to how a wormhole works, Captain,” he said.</p><p>“Explain it to us then, please,” said Kirk.</p><p>“That won’t be necessary,” said Sisko, “we actually have a stable wormhole here that connects two separate quadrants - we’ve got piles of research on the process of using it that we can pass on to make sure your journey home goes smoothly.”</p><p>“Fascinating,” said Spock, “please pass those on to me, they will be useful.”</p><p>“Okay, so Spock’s going to look after getting us home. Scotty, you’re going to - Scotty?”</p><p>Scotty must have been the man in red, because he jerked to attention at the sound of his name.</p><p>“Sorry sir, I must’ve - well, it’s all a bit to take in, isn’t it? Not to be rude or anythin’ but… well, you’ve sure got your fair share of aliens in Starfleet now, don’t you?”</p><p>Scotty smiled sheepishly at the two Bajorans and one Klingon who stared back, stony-faced. Only Jadzia seemed to find this extremely funny. </p><p>Kirk winced, but continued, “yes Mr Scott, but we need someone to oversee repairs to the ship - what’s your estimation?”</p><p>“Oh, about four days sir - give or take. Depending on how much these fellows can spare of their own?”</p><p>“We’re currently working through some - ah, <em> technical </em> issues of our own on the station at the moment. But I can certainly spare a few people.”</p><p>“Wonderful, wonderful!" said Scotty, clapping his hands together, "I must say Captain - Captain Sisko, that is - that I’m absolutely fascinated to see what Starfleet technology is going to be like in the future.”</p><p>“I wouldn’t hold my breath there,” said Kira, “this used to be a Cardassian station - most of the technology here is theirs.”</p><p>She watched Kirk very seriously mouth the word “Cardassian.”</p><p>“All are gone, the old familiar faces,” he said softly, to himself more than anybody else. More than anything right now, he seemed weary. Kira had heard the report - over a dozen crewmen lost, the ship itself badly damaged, managing to limp along until they had spotted the station. There was nothing of the wild, freewheeling Kirk who had been mythologised in colloquial Starfleet day-to-day talk, and for a moment Kira felt an irrational stab of guilt. </p><p>“I’m sure we’ll be able to provide the help you need though, Captain,” she added. Beside her, Ahna nodded her encouragement. Kirk’s eyes crinkled at the corners and he nodded back.</p><p>“I look forward to working with you - all of you. As I’m sure my men do as well.”</p><p>There it was, an oddly archaic way of talking about his crew surely, since they had their fair share of women too. Perhaps it was like the strange Starfleet propensity for referring to all commanding officers as "sir."</p><p>“Oh yes,” said Scotty, “this is going to be - if you’ll forgive me - absolutely fascinating.”</p><p>“For once, not an overstatement,” said Spock. His impassive Vulcan voice bordered on being a sarcastic drawl.</p><p>“One more thing though, Captain,” said Kirk, “we’ve been shaken around a fair bit, and we have several crewmen - Spock, Scotty and myself included - who find ourselves without somewhere to catch a few hours of sleep, at least until repairs have been done.”</p><p>“That’s no problem,” said Sisko, firmly fighting down the urge to invite them all over, “we have quarters you can take here, although some of them might end up being in the habitat ring, depending on how many of your crew are in need?”</p><p>“I’ll get those names to you right away - my crew are exhausted, they’ll need some time to rest before we start on… all this,” replied Kirk.</p><p>“Well,” said Sisko, “I can at least make sure the three of you have rooms-” </p><p>“The Captain and I require only one room,” interrupted Spock, and the corner of Kirk’s mouth twitched. Sisko nodded, very pointedly ignoring the sudden grin of delight on Jadzia’s face beside him.</p><p>“That can be arranged,” said Sisko, while his brain raced to rearrange everything he thought he had known about the Starfleet legends known as Captain James T. Kirk and Commander Spock.</p><p>*</p><p>Julian had seen Doctor Leonard Horatio McCoy before. He had looked at his face every day at the Starfleet Medical academy, where a large portrait of him was hung in the entrance. The portrait itself was famous - less so for its (admittedly impressive) subject, and more so for the fact that it had to be replaced every year or so because every so often it would end up defaced. The image of McCoy, with his piercing blue eyes and flat, determined expression somehow always ended up with a moustache, Vulcan ears, or large, black, angry eyebrows. Or one time, star shaped glasses. The culprit was never caught… but the incidents almost always coincided with a visit by the man himself, who was now somewhere in his hundred-and-fourtieth year alive. Impressive, and also terrifying.</p><p>This man, however, was significantly less mythological-looking. He was slighter than Julian had imagined him, and shorter. He currently had his arms braced on the side of an empty biobed, his head bowed while he took a moment to catch his breath before the next patient. The Enterprise crew had been pretty beaten up from the looks of things, so Doctor McCoy definitely had his hands full.</p><p>“Doctor McCoy?” said Julian as softly as he could manage, wincing as McCoy’s head jerked up with a start.</p><p>“Whozzat?” said McCoy, peering at Julian, “who the hell’re you?”</p><p>“I’m here to help, I’m from the station - well actually I’m the Chief Medical Officer here! I thought you might be able to use some help since Captain Kirk said you’d all had a bit of a rough time as of late. I’m not sure about the extent to which regulation says I can help you out equipment-wise, but I can tell you there have been a few pretty handy developments in medicine since your-”</p><p>“Ah, don’t worry about that,” said McCoy, waving Julian’s greeting away with a vague gesture, “nothin’ different to the usual nonsense I have to deal with around here, but you’re welcome to ah… I dunno. Hold things.”</p><p>He made his way to his next patient, a man, who was unconscious while the bones in his right leg and left arm knitted. He busied himself there for several minutes while Julian fidgeted in the sickbay entrance, unsure if he ought to say something.</p><p>“S-sir?” said Julian, hating the sudden high-pitched tightness in his voice.</p><p>“Mmm,” grunted McCoy, jotting down some readings.</p><p>“It’s just that-” said Julian, “well… I’m the CMO on this station. I could definitely be of use, if I could just-”</p><p>The doors swung open and two more crewmen stumbled through, both leaning heavily on the other for support. McCoy ushered them both to beds, grunting as he struggled to help lift them onto the beds.</p><p>“Well c’mon then, don’t just stand there,” he ground out, and Julian sprang into action. He lifted them easily onto the biobeds, one after the other.</p><p>McCoy raised an eyebrow as Julian smoothly situated them in the proper position.</p><p>“You’re a bit young to be CMO aren’t you? What did you do, matriculate from the womb? Write your final papers in crayon?”</p><p>Julian tensed slightly at this as his brain flicked through memories of this crew and their well-documented interactions with genetically modified individuals. He had made the connections himself countless times. What was it that drove a man to become like the likes of Khan Noonien Singh? Did he have those capabilities himself? </p><p>
  <em> Answer his question, Julian </em>
</p><p>“I’m thirty years old sir, plenty of time to get some proper study in.”</p><p>Julian held his breath as he waited for the conversation to derail, for Doctor McCoy to catch on and realise.</p><p>“Hmm, well you can properly study me some hyposprays from over there,” grumbled McCoy. Julian exhaled.</p><p>“Thank- uh, yes. Of course.”</p><p>
  <em> Don’t thank him, you idiot! Idiot, idiot idiot- </em>
</p><p>“Sometime today would be great, I don’t know what it’s like in the 24th century but on this ship we still experience pain like normal people,” said McCoy, holding out a hand. Julian scurried over, palms sweating. He hadn’t been this nervous since he’d been on his first rounds as a medical intern. It wasn’t the medicine - that part came like breathing. But being CMO meant that he was the one in charge, he dictated what the rules were, and he was able to take charge of the interactions he had. Here, McCoy clearly had a process. He had a way of doing things. His famous abrasive personality was evidently not an exaggeration, and Julian wasn’t sure how much of the prime directive counted when it came to offering the use of pilfered Cardassian medical supplies to a living legend of everything he had been taught since day one of medical school. Socially speaking, it was a nightmare.</p><p>“Doctor,” mumbled the man on the bed nearest to him. He had been unconscious since Julian had entered, but was evidently coming to.</p><p>“Hmm?” said Julian, turning around.</p><p>“Water?” croaked the man. Julian had a brief look at the man’s notes to check whether he could, and yes - it looked like that would be fine. McCoy was on the other side of the room, bent over another patient in deep concentration while his nurse - Christine Chapel, Julian’s mind supplied, hovered patiently nearby. </p><p>Julian fetched some water from the replicator and brought it back, rushing to his patient’s bedside as the man in question was raising himself into a sitting position, teeth gritted against the obvious agony he was in.</p><p>“Wait, that’s not what you want to do, it’s alright, just let me-” Julian set the cup down and gently but firmly manoeuvred the young man into a more comfortable position, holding him with one arm while the other stuffed some strategically placed pillows behind him for support. The man sighed as he settled back, and Julian pressed the cup into his hands and helped him drink.</p><p>“There, now isn’t that better? You really ought to ask before you try and move on your own, you know,” said Julian. The man smiled at him.</p><p>“This one’s bedside manner’s going to have everyone lining up for treatment from him if you’re not careful,” said a woman’s voice from behind him - Nurse Chapel. Julian gave her a sheepish smile, while McCoy rolled his eyes.</p><p>“Yeah well, young Chekov over there better not get used to it or else he’ll start actin’ like a fool again, what with no one to put the fear of god into him,” said McCoy. He was surveying the room with his arms crossed, his lips moving silently as he talked himself through whatever it was that was going through his head. Chapel winked at Julian and busied herself with tidying up. </p><p>“You don’t happen to outrank him, do you?” she said.</p><p>“Me?” said Julian, “oh no, I’m just a lieutenant.”</p><p>“Pity,” said Chapel, “I was hoping you’d be able to order a certain somebody to take a break and eat something.” </p><p>She looked pointedly at McCoy who was scrubbing his hands over his face. He did look a little pale and worn, coming down from the adrenaline rush of crisis mode - a feeling Julian knew all too well himself.</p><p>“Well, I don’t know about giving orders, but I suppose I could make use of that bedside manner and ask nicely,” said Julian, bolstered by Chapel’s encouraging smile.</p><p>“You two better not be gangin’ up on me,” said McCoy, though there was no real venom in his words. Julian watched as he began to make another round to check on his patients. </p><p>“Just as a thought, but I could keep an eye on things here if you wanted to rest for a moment,” said Julian. McCoy seemed to bristle at this suggestion, but Chapel shot him a <em> look </em>, and his expression softened. </p><p>“You’re a good kid,” said McCoy, and Julian startled at the sudden gentleness in his voice, “but if you really are the CMO here, you’ll realise I can’t do that.”</p><p>Julian’s eyes flickered to where McCoy’s hand rested on the young man’s - Chekov’s - shoulder, squeezing it reassuringly. Julian consistently had patients he’d never met before, officers passing through his infirmary every day and when the shift changed, barring an emergency, he handed over his notes. But the Enterprise was different. McCoy cared for the same crew every day, and had for years now. They were like family - like Jadzia and the Captain, and O'Brien, Garak, Kira, Jake. He knew exactly what McCoy meant, from all the times he'd neglected to clock off or outright refused to leave, even when the danger had passed. Even when, by all accounts, everything was supposed to be smooth sailing from there.</p><p>“At least let me help?” said Julian, and it was the right answer because he was rewarded with a small smile. The effect completely transformed McCoy’s expression into something that radiated warmth, and Julian felt an odd twist of something in his chest in response.</p><p>“How much d’you know about how our sick bay works, anyway?”</p><p>Julian took a deep breath.</p><p>“I studied all of your methods in the academy, several of your missions are case studies that we look at, and in the academy there’s always <em> someone </em> with a bootlegged holodeck program where you can run around the Enterprise - your Enterprise! Oh! And your book on space psychology is still one of the key-”</p><p>“Whoa there son,” said McCoy, though he looked amused more than irritated, “I haven’t even written that book you’re talking about yet, although I suppose that’s one to file away for later. But I think it’s probably best if you don’t tell me too much about my own future, hm?”</p><p>Julian’s eyes widened as he realised what he’d said.</p><p>“That’s… oh. Yes, absolutely. That’s a very good idea. Sir.”</p><p>McCoy shook his head.</p><p>“Sir’s out of the question, never been a sir. Name’s Leonard McCoy, you can call me either one of those names if you like,” he stuck out a hand and Julian shook it, trying and failing not to appear too eager.</p><p>“Julian Bashir - oh gosh, I forgot to introduce myself before-”</p><p>“It’s alright kid, you’re doin’ it now,” said McCoy. </p><p>From across the room, Christine Chapel watched Doctor McCoy take the young Doctor Bashir on his round, taking a little longer to explain what he was doing, and waiting patiently for Bashir’s second opinion, which quickly lost its stammer. She carefully concealed her delight at the second wind that seemed to have come over McCoy, the twinkle that had returned to his eye. She turned to go finish up in the office, leaving the two doctors to their quiet conversation.</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0002"><h2>2. Chapter 2</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was several hours before McCoy was satisfied enough to let his guard down and rest a while. Chapel had been shooed out some time ago, leaving the two of them behind to tie up all the loose ends of the past day. It was several hours that Julian quietly savoured, committing every moment to memory, regardless of if it was filling out a chart, or a softly muttered anecdote about Ensign Carstairs’ restless sleeping habits - the reason why the railing on his biobed was up - or McCoy taking the opportunity to check Chekov’s hormone levels while he was out, a process he knew the Ensign hated. After all, Julian thought, how often did one have the luxury of a private audience with Doctor McCoy? </p><p>A little way in, McCoy had stopped giving him orders. They had gone to check Carstairs’ vitals and he had simply stood there, PADD in hand. Julian had stood there too, feeling rather stupid, until McCoy cleared his throat and asked, “well, what am I writin’ down?” </p><p>Julian had been more than willing to take it from there, as he fell into the familiar rhythm of diagnostic work. McCoy listened, nodded, and wrote down what he said with a barely concealed smile as Julian’s answers slowly grew wordier and more excited, until they were done and McCoy was perched on a bench, cradling a cup of coffee while Julian’s tea grew cold from whatever story he was telling right now. It was hard to follow, given that he was nearing the fourty hour mark of being on duty at this point, but the kid’s enthusiasm was endearing now that McCoy was sure he wasn’t just a cocky bastard.</p><p>On the other hand, Julian seemed to sense that the older doctor’s energy was flagging, and paused.</p><p>“You really ought to rest,” he said finally.</p><p>McCoy dragged a hand down his face and blew out a long breath.</p><p>“Is that your professional opinion?”</p><p>“I don’t need to be a professional to see that you’re exhausted-”</p><p>At that moment, the sick bay doors opened and another man in medical scrubs entered, looking much fresher and more awake than his counterpart.</p><p>“M’Benga,” said McCoy, sliding off the bench, “meet Doctor Bashir.”</p><p>“A pleasure,” said M’Benga, inclining his head. He turned to McCoy. </p><p>“Handover, then bed.”</p><p>“Ah calm down, I was going anyway,” McCoy flapped a hand at him in a show of perfunctory grumpiness, then reached for his PADD. </p><p>“You can probably head off too, kid,” said McCoy, “figure you’ve probably got your own patients to look after. We can take it from here.”</p><p>“Hm? Oh yes,” said Julian, “but I just wanted to say - thank you so much for having me here, I really feel like-”</p><p>“Ah, get outta here with all of that,” said McCoy, taking him by the hand, “it was good to meet you.”</p><p>Julian collected up his equipment, and absolutely was not listening in to the conversation between McCoy and M’Benga. McCoy was squinting at the PADD with his notes on it, and reached up to pinch at the bridge of his nose.</p><p>“Doctor, are you-” said M’Benga slowly</p><p>“Yeah yeah, just gimme a sec,” said McCoy, squinting at his notes even harder, like that might stop the words from blurring.</p><p>“I can hand over if you like,” said Julian brightly, “I’ve been here,”</p><p>“Oh, thank god,” said M’Benga, ignoring McCoy’s spluttered protests, “perfect, let’s do that. Len, get out of here.”</p><p>“In your dreams,” muttered McCoy. </p><p>He knew when he’d been defeated though, and so he half-stumbled to a nearby biobed, clambered onto it, and curled up, falling asleep almost instantly. From the exasperated look on M’Benga’s face, it appeared that this was not out of the ordinary. </p><p>Julian kept an eye on the sleeping doctor while he handed over. He was curled on his side, one arm under the pillow and the other arm wrapped protectively around his chest. Even asleep he seemed to be frowning, like he was permanently annoyed. Although that couldn’t be it either - thinking back on the last few hours, the doctor had actually been unusually kind. He remembered McCoy’s hand on Chekov’s shoulder, and was suddenly reminded of another friend that he had. Savannah often visited him in the infirmary, some of the time just to hang out, but most of the time just to find someone she felt calm enough around to sleep. </p><p>“Is that all?” said M’Benga, snapping him back to the present.</p><p>“Sorry, zoned out there for a moment,” said Julian hastily.</p><p>“Not a problem. Listen, thanks so much for your help,” M’Benga followed Julian’s gaze to where McCoy lay, and sighed.</p><p>“He’ll be alright, don’t worry,” he said. Julian wasn’t entirely sure he believed him.</p><p>*</p><p>Julian’s aforementioned friend, a young Lieutenant on Miles’ tech team, was currently on her way to Engineering on the Enterprise, alongside a handful of red-shirted officers, and her Trill colleague Susan. Miles was still off trying to figure out how the hell to get all the missing Cardassian pieces back into the computers on the station. </p><p>As they followed the other officers in, Savannah and Susan did their absolute best to pretend they didn’t already know the exact layout of the ship like the backs of their hands. Both of their faces were carefully schooled into expressions of professional impassivity as they opened discussions with the officers about what new components would need to be replicated, what their 24th century tech could bring to the table, and what they needed to slap a question mark on so they could figure out how to deal with it later. Savannah had all but disappeared into the crawl space beneath one of the consoles when an odd whistling noise sounded in the room, making her hit her head on the panel above her.</p><p>“Attention all Enterprise engineering personnel,” said a Scottish-accented voice, “please report to the briefing room. Repeat, all Enterprise engineering personnel to the briefing room.”</p><p>There was a pitter-patter of footsteps leaving, and then silence. Savannah slowly backed out, taking great care to avoid the frankly horrifying tangle of cables that she was cataloguing her way through. Susan was already there, standing in the middle of engineering, taking a moment to have a proper look around.</p><p>“Lieutenant,” said Susan, her face a cool mask of professionalism. Savannah’s face slowly broke into a grin.</p><p>“Susan…” she said slowly.</p><p>“I fucking <em> know </em>!” replied Susan, her hands cupping her cheeks as she took it all in.</p><p>“Susan!” said Savannah, “we’re on the fucking<em> Enterprise </em>!”</p><p>The two of them faced each other and screamed, hardly daring to believe that this was actually happening.</p><p>“This is really happening - it’s really, actually, honest-to-god happening. Oh my god, Susan, take a picture of me sitting here, hold on-” </p><p>Savannah shoved her PADD at Susan and then sat down at one of the consoles, striking a pose.</p><p>“Okay okay, take another one,” said Savannah, changing position.</p><p>“Hold on, I want one too!”</p><p>“Are you both alright there, lassies?” said a voice from the doorway. Savannah immediately overbalanced on the chair she was half-perched on, and slid gracelessly to the floor.</p><p>“Mister-”</p><p>“Commander?”</p><p>“Lieutenant Commander?”</p><p>“Sir-”</p><p>“Scotty’s fine, dears” said the man in question, wearing a wide grin as Savannah and Susan did their best to recover some modicum of dignity.</p><p>“I just thought you both might want to sit in on the meeting, you might have some insights about what can be done from your end of things.”</p><p>“Oh, yessir!” said Savannah, “we just thought you said - you know, just the Enterprise crew-”</p><p>“Aye well, my bad,” said Scotty, his eyes twinkling, “but before we head off, did you want me to take a picture with the both of you in it?”</p><p>*</p><p>“You’re hovering,” said Kirk.</p><p>“I do not <em> hover </em>, Jim,” replied Spock, hovering just over his shoulder.</p><p>The two of them had retreated to the spartan quarters they had been assigned - these Cardassians, whoever they were, certainly left a lot to be desired in terms of creature comforts. It wasn’t so much that the beds were hard and the space cramped - he’d dealt with worse. What troubled him was the fact that he was on a vital Federation space port, apparently run by Starfleet alongside the… Bajolans? Either way, he was on a vitally important station in deep space, and it seemed like the fleet had all but forgotten about its officers here, save for when they were needed for assignments. Half the computer functions seemed to be out of commission or malfunctioning. The fact that looting the station seemed a commonplace occurrence was a worry. Plus there was the issue of the seemingly immense responsibility placed on the station, which was at odds with the frankly heinous lack of funding and resourcing for the place. Everybody seemed just a little bit on edge no matter what they were doing, braced for the next disaster coming their way, and Jim found that he didn’t care for it one bit.</p><p>“You’re brooding,” said Spock.</p><p>“I’m not-” Kirk paused, taking in the spark of amusement in Spock’s eyes, the only indication that he was being teased. He shook his head and shut off the screen, where he and Spock had been trying to make sense of the wormhole research Sisko had provided to them. Kirk had to admit, he couldn’t make head nor tail of it.</p><p>“Doctor McCoy might say something along the lines of ‘penny for your thoughts?’” said Spock, setting down his own PADD and sitting down on the couch. Kirk took a deep breath, then went and sat down heavily beside him. </p><p>“I don’t know, Spock. It’s… it feels like a bigger thought than I can put into words.”</p><p>Spock nodded, waiting patiently for him to continue.</p><p>“This place is awful,” said Kirk, “that’s not to say - I mean, Captain Sisko is wonderful, the crew are wonderful, but walking around the station with him just felt like… like everybody’s waiting for the next thing to go wrong. For the next attack, the next time they’re going to get beaten down.”</p><p>Spock nodded, “it does appear that there are a number of social and political tensions specific to this area that would heighten the sense of imminent danger.”</p><p>“That’s not all of it though,” said Kirk, “it’s. I’ve got this awful feeling sitting right here,” he patted his chest, “that won’t move.”</p><p>“An emotion you cannot identify?” said Spock, raising an eyebrow.</p><p>“Yeah. I can’t even tell where it’s coming from. I think I just feel like - what am I doing here if all of our running around, meeting new alien cultures, making first contact… I wonder how all of our<em> boldly going </em>led to this.”</p><p>“Ah,” said Spock, “you have made an error in assuming that the improvement of what you so lovingly refer to as ‘the human condition’ is a linear process. And a strictly human one, at that.”</p><p>Kirk shook his head, “no, that’s not it either. I never assumed we’d reach some sort of perfect utopian society.”</p><p>Spock remained silent once more, like he could sense that ugly feeling in the back of Kirk’s mind clawing at him to get free.</p><p>“Have you noticed the way they look at us?” </p><p>“We have been part of an ongoing mission that has, as you pointed out, exposed us to innumerable new instances of first contact with new species. Humans are extremely fond of celebrating achievements like these,” replied Spock.</p><p>“I suppose so. We report to Starfleet command every day, though. There are people monitoring us, there’s backup at our beck and call whenever we need it, we have command of the best ship in the fleet, shore leave when we need it…”</p><p>“You see yourself as a revered legend to the officers here, yet you are disconcerted by the comparative ease we have had in our work compared to theirs,” said Spock.</p><p>“I wouldn’t call it easy,” said Kirk, “but we have fun, don’t we Spock?”</p><p>“Jim, I believe the word for this feeling - is guilt.”</p><p>Kirk didn’t reply, except to tilt sideways until his head was leaning on Spock’s shoulder. He closed his eyes, savouring the point of contact against his cheek, the solid weight he could feel propping him up. He held in a breath, then exhaled slowly.</p><p>“It is also logical that we feel, as the direct predecessors of the Starfleet officers here, a certain amount of responsibility towards them. A responsibility that - due to regulation - we perhaps will not be able to fulfil.”</p><p>“We, Mister Spock?” said Kirk, a tired smile on his lips.</p><p>“Yes, Jim.”</p><p>Kirk felt Spock’s knuckles brush against his, and he uncurled his hand so that the two of them could allow their fingers to intertwine. Beside him, he felt rather than heard Spock give a soft sigh.</p><p>“For a senior staff team,” he said, “they are... statistically much further below the normal age range than the norm.”</p><p>“Hmm,” agreed Kirk. He wanted to say more, but now that he was comfortable he could feel the heavy weight of his weariness settling over him. He was faintly aware of the sensation of Spock’s thumb brushing against his knuckles, and he let himself doze off. Just for a few minutes.</p><p>*</p><p>“He’s cute, isn’t he?” said Jadzia, taking a sip of her drink to hide the little smile on her face as Julian spluttered into his drink.</p><p>The two of them sat shoulder to shoulder at the bar in Quark’s, nursing… something that was too bright an orange to be entirely safe. </p><p>“Jadzia, he’s a Starfleet <em> legend </em>-” </p><p>“With beautiful blue eyes-”</p><p>“He shouldn’t even be in this timeline-”</p><p>“-and dextrous surgeon’s hands-”</p><p>“Yuck!” Julian made a face at her, “he’s old enough to be my father!”</p><p>Jadiza paused at that, frowning.</p><p>“Is he?”</p><p>Julian’s eyes went wide, and he took a big gulp of his drink.</p><p>“I mean, probably! He’s old, isn’t he?”</p><p>“I don’t think so… not that I can do the math right now but I get the feeling he’s not <em> that </em> much older than Kirk?”</p><p>“O-oh. Okay.”</p><p>There was a brief moment of silence, where Julian braced himself for whatever it was that was about to come out of Jadzia’s mouth.</p><p>“I bet he’d let you call him daddy though.”</p><p>“<em> Jadzia </em>!”</p><p>“Julian!”</p><p>Somebody was calling his name from across the bar. Julian looked up gratefully to see Savannah and Susan making their way in, with one of the Enterprise officers in tow. He was now wearing a leather jacket and jeans, and was presumably off duty.</p><p>“This is Scotty!” said Savannah, a delighted grin on her face, “he’s joining us for the night!”</p><p>“Lovely to meet you!” said Julian, extending a hand, which Scotty shook warmly.</p><p>“I hear you have some interesting drinks around here,” said Scotty, looking around the bar in wonder. His gaze lingered perhaps a little too long on the Dabo tables, but he quickly returned his attention to Julian.</p><p>“Good to know all our explorin’ made a difference where it counts,” he said, unable to stop himself from grinning.</p><p>“You must be one of the Enterprise crew,” said a nasally voice from behind the counter. Quark was leaning on the bar, looking at Scotty with interest.</p><p>“Aye, you got that one right,” said Scotty, “what have you got for me to try out? I’m feelin’ a bit adventurous tonight.”</p><p>Quark’s face lit up in a frankly horrifying approximation of a smile, and he held up one finger.</p><p>“I’ve got just the thing. I’ll be right back.”</p><p>“Wait,” called Julian, and then sat back in his chair, horrified, “is he going to bring out the-”</p><p>“The Ten-Step Braincell Blaster? Yeah, I think he is,” said Jadzia, patting him on the arm, “it’s okay though, they’ll be fine. Oh! Leonard McCoy!”</p><p>Jadzia sat up on her stool and waved at the man in question, who had just entered. He looked a little more alert now, and had obviously showered and shaved and changed into civilian clothes - black slacks and a soft brown sweater. He had clearly been booted from sickbay - presumably now that his last few patients had returned to their quarters to rest. He had his shoulders hunched, his arms crossed across his chest, and looked every bit like he would rather die than sit at the bar in the middle of the room, but he made his way cautiously over nonetheless.</p><p>“Do I know you?” he said, raising an eyebrow. He looked Jadzia over, taking in the spots that ran across her temples and down her neck. Then something seemed to click, and his face suddenly grew bright red.</p><p>“Dax?” he said, his voice hoarse and strangled.</p><p>“Leonard!” beamed Jadzia, hopping up to greet him, “it’s <em>Jadzia</em> Dax now!”</p><p>“O-oh,” said McCoy, gingerly returning her hug.</p><p>“You’ve just <em> got </em> to stay for a drink, it’s been too long.”</p><p>“You’re saying that like it’s just been, oh I dunno, a handful of years!” said McCoy.</p><p>“As opposed to?” said Scotty.</p><p>“Try over a hundred!” said McCoy, his voice taking on a hysterical edge.</p><p>“Wait, you guys know each other?” said Susan.</p><p>“Two Ten-Step Braincell Blasters, right here!” said Quark brightly, putting down two trays full of multicoloured shots on the bar, “I thought you might want some friendly competition.”</p><p>“Quark, don’t be an asshole, these guys are our guests,” said Susan.</p><p>“Yeah, you’re not meant to be selling anything to species who don’t know how your currency system works, <em> Odo </em> said so,” said Savannah, relishing the slight shudder that passed through the Ferengi at the invocation of the Constable’s name.</p><p>“I’ve got it Quark, thanks,” said Jadzia, “these guys don’t have any latinum.”</p><p>Quark sneered at her, “oh yeah? I didn’t know you had that kind of money.”</p><p>“Money?” said McCoy in confusion.</p><p>“Oh don’t worry, I won’t need to pay up,” said Jadzia smugly. She turned to McCoy and Scotty.</p><p>“If you can finish these in ten minutes and not pass out, you can have them for free. Nobody’s ever managed to do it, which is how Quark cleans up on cocky patrons.”</p><p>“Which is not to say you shouldn’t try!” said Quark, “or even make several attempts! Sure, the price point is a little high, but think of the glory you’ll bring to your ship.”</p><p>McCoy and Scotty exchanged a silent look, then picked up the first shot. It was chocolate brown and sparkly, and looked like the sort of sugary concoction they gave to Spock when they wanted him to get hammered with them. They clinked glasses, then nodded seriously to each other.</p><p>“To our duranium lady,” said Scotty.</p><p>“And the crew - the crews who’ve kept her running,” said McCoy, flashing a small smile at Julian.</p><p>“Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?” said Savannah, as the situation quickly spiralled out of control from ‘show me where a man can get a decent drink around here’ to ‘living legends get lost in the sauce.’</p><p>“Aye, no problem,” said Scotty, and he and McCoy downed their first shots. Jadzia pulled out her PADD.</p><p>“I’m pretty sure if you film this it’s going to be a direct violation of Starfleet protocol,” whispered Julian</p><p>“This entire situation is a direct violation of Starfleet protocol,” whispered Jadzia, “I guess we’ll just have to make sure nobody finds out.” </p><p>On the other side of the Enterprise officers, Susan and Savannah got themselves a spot so they could settle in to watch.</p><p>*</p><p>Night shift in ops was quiet, now that everybody had gotten the Enterprise gossip out of their systems. M, one of the night shift crew, scrolled through the subspace communications that had come through that day. It was just her luck that all of the messages were obscure ones, mostly detailing the requirements of various dignitaries who would be passing through in the next month or so. Boring, but unfortunately, very important that everything was translated correctly.</p><p>Robertson, the literature and communications professor who worked with Keiko, seemed to be having a sleepless night too. They had a number of Sisko and Jadzia’s logs saved, and were scratching their head as to how to make them sound as un-suspicious as possible. Every now and then they would groan and mutter something that sounded like “<em> god, why are they so stupid?” </em></p><p>The handful of other officers in ops all had their own things to do, and so the only sounds were the occasional metallic clank of footsteps, the soft beeping of the consoles, the occasional curse word from Robertson, and the gentle hum of the station itself. It was because of this lull that when the turbolift groaned and hissed, Robertson dropped the PADD they were holding and nearly jumped out of their skin.</p><p>“Jesus Christ, who the <em> fuck </em>-” Robertson rounded on the person who had just arrived, their teacher voice at the ready, and froze.</p><p>“Rob?” said M, turning to see who it was, and then also freezing.</p><p>“What the fuck are you doing here?” said Robertson, and then immediately clapped their hand over their mouth.</p><p>Captain James T Kirk stood in the turbolift, though the effect of his arrival was somewhat diminished by the ratty old flannel shirt he was currently wearing. At least he had made the effort to button it up properly. Kirk’s eyes filled with amusement, crinkling at the corners with a tired smile. </p><p>“Lovely to meet you all,” he said, “I’m sure you’re all very busy, but I was wondering if there’s an observation lounge anywhere on this station?”</p><p>Robertson blinked twice, then seemed to recover their wits.</p><p>“Sorry about that! You surprised me there-” they returned Kirk’s smile as he waved the apology away, “there’s uh… well, there isn’t really an observation lounge, no. Cardassians aren’t much for stargazing, I suppose. It’d be nice to have one though.”</p><p>“Is there a window in your quarters?” said M, “some of the quarters have windows in them.”</p><p>“No, not mine,” said Kirk. He looked around the place, then carefully stepped into ops.</p><p>“I don’t mean to be rude,” said M, “but you really can’t be here. How did you get authorization?”</p><p>“Hmm?” said Kirk, “oh, I just used my Starfleet access code - I guess they don’t expire when you die.”</p><p>“They absolutely expire when you die,” said M, “they expire at the drop of a hat, I spend half my time here trying to make sure mine <em> don’t </em> expire.”</p><p>“It says here,” said Robertson, tapping their PADD, “that Captain Kirk’s Starfleet access codes are permanent as a safety measure, because you’ve time and dimension hopped so many times in order to enact rescue missions they figured it was safer that way.”</p><p>“Well considering I’m here, I guess that makes sense,” said Kirk.</p><p>“It also says that your codes will never expire because they can’t…” Robertson paused, their eyes flicking up towards Kirk nervously.</p><p>“Come on, you can’t leave it there,” said Kirk, “because what?”</p><p>“No, I don’t think I should say,” said Robertson softly. Kirk frowned, but then nodded.</p><p>“Probably for the best.”</p><p>Kirk looked up into the panelled metal roof of ops, his eyes locked onto the tiny porthole windows above their heads.</p><p>“I’m sorry there’s nowhere you can see them more clearly - except perhaps in Captain Sisko’s office?” said M</p><p>“Oh, it’s fine,” said Kirk, “I just couldn’t sleep. I won’t bother you any longer - you’ve been very kind to accommodate me.”</p><p>“It’s no trouble at all,” said Robertson, patting the seat next to them, “if you just want some quiet for a while, feel free to sit. We get visitors all the time during night shift - well, just the same two or three night owls. But sometimes they bring cookies.”</p><p>“Ah, I see where I’ve made my error then,” said Kirk. He sat down in the proffered chair and sighed, leaning his elbows on the console in front of him while he stared around at the unfamiliar room, trying to figure out where everything was, what everything did.</p><p>“You know, Sisko would probably be extremely keen to have you for dinner at some point. If you wanted a nicer view. Don’t tell him I said that, though,” said Robertson.</p><p>“I don’t think that’s such a good idea,” said Kirk, “I really don’t want to interfere any more than is necessary - we’re going to try and lay low as much as we can.”</p><p>“Tell that to your officers,” said M, holding up her PADD. On the station group chat, Jadzia had sent around a blurry video of what appeared to be the Enterprise’s Chief of Engineering and Chief Medical Officer smashing shots at Quark’s bar. Kirk buried his head in his hands.</p><p>“Honestly, that looks more like what we were expecting when you guys showed up,” said Robertson with a shrug, “I know half the crew were getting all geared up to party with the legendary Captain Kirk.”</p><p>“Yes well, the legendary Captain Kirk is tired,” said Kirk, “although I suppose I shouldn’t be the one complaining to the night shift staff.”</p><p>“You keep doing that,” said Robertson, narrowing their eyes at him.</p><p>“Doing what?”</p><p>“Apologising for being here. You know, you guys being here is pretty much going to be the highlight of the year for most of the people on this station, it’s okay to like… get out a bit. I mean you’re already here, aren’t you?”</p><p>“Surely that would land you in more than your fair share of hot water, no?” said Kirk, although he didn’t look entirely opposed to the idea.</p><p>“Starfleet checks in on us when they check in on us, we get our kicks where and when we can,” said Robertson, holding up their PADD, “case in point, my job this week is to make sure none of Sisko and Dax’s logs sound suspicious while you’re still here.”</p><p>“That doesn’t make any sense!” exclaimed Kirk, “surely that means we should be keeping out of the way!”</p><p>“Uh yeah, if we were automatons maybe. I love my work here, but if we didn’t find time for shenanigans I think we’d all go insane.”</p><p>“Hear hear,” said M.</p><p>Kirk sat for a while as he considered this. Always, his eyes strayed to the windows.</p><p>“Bright star, would I were as steadfast as thou art - not in lone splendour hung aloft the night,” he said quietly.</p><p>“And watching, with eternal lids apart, like nature’s patient, sleepless Eremite,” finished Robertson, “you <em> are </em> in a mood tonight, if you don’t mind me saying so. Captain.”</p><p>“Ah,” said Kirk, shrugging the comment away, “no, I’m just - you’ve just all been very kind. I wish there was something I could do-”</p><p>“I can tell you exactly what you can do,” said Robertson, pointing a finger at his chest, “you can stop moping. You can go invite yourself to dinner with the Captain - our Captain. And you can go get trashed at Quark’s with the rest of your buddies so we have something to laugh about next time we have to lock down the station or something.”</p><p>“That hardly sounds like a constructive use of our time.”</p><p>They had been so engrossed in their conversation, they’d missed the hiss of the turbolift, and the arrival of Spock. Robertson and M looked around in surprise.</p><p>“No it doesn’t,” said Kirk, smiling fully now, his expression flooded with warmth, “but I’ll think about it.”</p><p>He hopped up from his seat and went to Spock, who stood with two fingers extended from his right hand. Spock’s eyebrow raised, and Kirk responded with a sheepish shrug, and pressed his fingers to Spock’s.</p><p>“You have not expressed genuine contentment in some time,” said Spock, and then turned to the rest of the officers in ops, “thank you.”</p><p>“Our… pleasure?” said M.</p><p>“I’ll see you all around,” said Kirk, and with a wave, the two of them were gone.</p><p>“So… that happened,” said M.</p><p>“That really. That just happened,” agreed Robertson.</p><p>The two of them stared off into space while they processed that that had indeed, just happened.</p><p>“Wait a minute,” said M, “what <em> was </em> that other reason why Kirk’s access codes never expire.”</p><p>Robertson's brow furrowed.</p><p>“Because Starfleet has never been able to ascertain whether or not he ever actually died.”</p>
  </div></div>
<a name="section0003"><h2>3. Chapter 3</h2></a>
<div class="story"><div class="userstuff module">
    
    <p>It was the last shot. Both Scotty and McCoy were swaying where they stood, their eyes slightly unfocused, goofy grins on both of their faces. The bar had gone silent. Patrons who were in the know about the infamous Ten Step Braincell Blaster were watching in reverent amazement, while others could simply tell that this was a moment in time. Something extraordinary was happening here.</p><p>Quark, on the other hand, sat at the bar while it began to dawn on him that he had likely just served up twenty shots worth of very expensive, <em> real </em> alcohol… for free.</p><p>“Wh… <em> who </em>,” said McCoy, taking great care to sound out every part of the word, “do we drink to now?”</p><p>“To the fine crew of this station!” said Scotty, going for the final shot - this one was a viscous, opaque silver liquid. If McCoy had been in his right mind, he probably wouldn’t have touched it with a ten foot pole. As it were, he grabbed the shot off the bar and put it to his lips.</p><p>“To Emony Dax!” exclaimed Jazdia from behind him as he downed it, hooking her chin over his shoulder. McCoy choked, and Jadzia stumbled backwards, eyes wide.</p><p>“Shit! Don’t stop now Len, finish it off!” </p><p>McCoy made a muffled sound of distress and forced the drink down, eyes watering. Finally, he bent over, coughing and spluttering, one arm on the bar. </p><p>“Now where have I heard that one before?” he muttered, sending Jadzia into a fit of laughter.</p><p>Beside him, Scotty smoothed down his jacket and his hair, and squinted in what he likely thought was an extremely sober manner at Quark. McCoy straightened up, and the two of them slammed their final, empty glasses on the bar. The room erupted in cheers, and Scotty and McCoy took a wobbly bow, McCoy grabbing the back of Scotty’s jacket to make sure he didn’t topple over. </p><p>Quark’s hands were resting on the bar counter, curled into shaking fists.</p><p>“Well done,” he ground out, “I hope you enjoy your stay on the station.”</p><p>He paused for a moment, an idea seeming to dawn on him.</p><p>“... unless you want to go for round two?”</p><p>“No!” said Savannah, already bundling Scotty towards one of the booths, “you’ve done enough for tonight thank you very much.”</p><p>“Mmm, cheers, big ears!” said Scotty over his shoulder. Quark’s eyes widened in shock and one hand reached up self consciously, but he didn’t reply. </p><p>McCoy and Julian stumbled after them - Julian, being a sympathetic-many-things, drinker being one of them (crier being another one), had also managed to get himself to the point of being, well, very silly. The two doctors propped each other as they stumbled like the world's worst three-legged race contestants towards the booth that Savannah had snagged.</p><p>“Bones… can I call you Bones? Does anybody except Captain Kirk call you Bones? I want to call you Bones. Bone. Bone man.”</p><p>Julian Bashir was completely, utterly wiped out. At this point he was basically plastered against McCoy's side, his drink swirling precariously in his hand (although not spilling a drop, which a very distantly aware part of him was proud of). </p><p>“Call me what you want son,” said McCoy, his accent thickened by the amount of alcohol he’d just consumed, “I probably won’t remember it in the morning anyway.”</p><p>The two of them half-fell into their seats next to Savannah, who was trying to prop Scotty upright. </p><p>“You know,” said Julian, letting his head fall sideways onto McCoy’s shoulder, “you’re nothing like what I thought you were going to be, when they told me the great Doctor McCoy was going to be on the station.”</p><p>“Oh don’t start with that great-doctor-whatever stuff kid-” grumbled McCoy, but Julian interrupted him.</p><p>“No but it’s true! There’s a big portrait of you up in the Starfleet medical academy and everything!”</p><p>McCoy snorted, “sounds like someone oughta go in there and draw a big ol’ moustache on it.”</p><p>Julian drew back, staring at him openmouthed.</p><p>“It <em> is </em> you doing it,” he whispered. </p><p>McCoy frowned, but didn’t try to clarify.</p><p>“Now Julian,” he said instead, haltingly, “what exactly do you mean… that I’m nothing like what you thought I was going to be?”</p><p>“Oh, you know,” said Julian, gesturing so wildly Savannah had to duck to avoid getting smacked in the face, “grumpy! Rude! Scary! Not that you’re anything like that in real life, but I must say I was <em> terrified </em> when they first told me to come find you in sickb… sickbay…”</p><p>Julian’s voice trailed off in confusion as Savannah put a restraining hand on his arm. She’d noticed the abrupt shift in McCoy’s expression, to one that was far more sober than he had any business being. His easy, cheerful smile had disappeared, replaced with a carefully guarded blank face.</p><p>“Well, good to know I didn’t live up to those particular expectations, I guess,” said McCoy, forcing the corner of his mouth up in an attempt at humour. </p><p>“Yeah! You’re actually nice!” said Julian, clapping him on the back.</p><p>From the other side of the bar, a young person was walking towards them. They were wearing a pink feathered robe that Liberace would have been proud of, with wild pink curls atop their head and pink, heart shaped glasses upon their face. They were grinning widely.</p><p>“I thought I might find some of the Enterprise crew here!” they said, perching on the edge of the group’s table. Savannah, the one sober person at this point, went into anxiety overdrive.</p><p>“What are you doing here, Giuditta?” she said, trying to stop her voice from going too high pitched.</p><p>“Oh,” said Giuditta, tossing their head back like they were posing for a beach photoshoot, “just looking for Captain Kirk. You know the one.”</p><p>“Gone back to his quarters,” said McCoy, “he’s not really one for this sort of thing. Goin’ out. Partying.”</p><p>Giuditta tilted their head to the side while they processed this information.</p><p>“He’s also not interested in whatever you’re lookin’ to get out of him!” continued McCoy, an edge of irritation creeping into his voice. Giuditta tilted their head to the other side.</p><p>“I just have some questions for him, regarding his history with-”</p><p>“Giuditta’s a hologram,” said Savannah quickly, “they’re programmed to compile information - they’re... an archivist!”</p><p>“O-oh,” said McCoy, “I'm so sorry, I just... oh god, I apologise - pleased to meet you.”</p><p>“Pleased to meet you too, Doctor McCoy!” Giuditta beamed and extended a hand, which McCoy shook kindly.</p><p>“Giuditta,” said Savannah, “maybe you should wait a while before you go looking for the Captain, I’m sure he’s got lots to be doing at the moment.”</p><p>“It won’t take too long!” said Giuditta, as a small PADD with a pink, fluffy cover materialised in their hands, “I just have a few questions regarding his personal relations with-”</p><p>“<em> Giuditta,” </em> said Savannah, trying her best to convey the urgency in her voice without alerting McCoy to anything suspicious, “ <em> later.” </em></p><p>Giuditta tossed their hair airily and the PADD disappeared.</p><p>“Well, I suppose I haven’t been to see Mama yet,” they said with a shrug, “I’ll try again later!”</p><p>“Lwaxana’s on the station?” said Susan, from where she had faceplanted onto the table about ten minutes ago and not moved since.</p><p>“Yes, arrived a few hours ago!” said Giuditta, “I thought I’d find her here too actually - two birds with one stone! Oh well.”</p><p>They turned to leave and Savannah let out a breath of relief she didn’t realise she’d been holding.</p><p>“Weird that Kirk doesn’t like to go out though, has anybody told him about the Dabo girls? I thought he’d be excited.”</p><p>Giuditta wandered off, their gown billowing out behind them as they went. Savannah buried her head in her hands.</p><p>McCoy had gone oddly pale - he looked like he was going to be sick.</p><p>“What the hell,” he said, and Savannah was heartbroken at how shaken he sounded, “have people been saying about us in the future?”</p><p>Savannah opened her mouth to reply, but McCoy stood up abruptly, straightening his jumper.</p><p>“Thanks for the drinks,” he muttered, and stalked out of the bar.</p><p>Julian, who had already been half asleep at this point, blinked in confusion.</p><p>“Wherezzegoin’?” he said, squinting after him. Savannah didn’t have a reply.</p><p>“Somebody tell me if he throws up on his way to his quarters,” called Quark as McCoy stomped past him, “that still counts as losing!”</p><p>*</p><p>Small talk said a lot about people. Their choice of topic, their willingness to respond, the level of amiability they extended towards a shopkeeper or simple tailor - all of these things were signposts for important personality traits. That was the reason why Garak very politely engaged every single person who came through the door of his shop. It was the reason why his eyes had lit up the moment the two men walked in off the promenade. The shorter one had slightly tousled golden hair, and was trying his best to appear nondescript in a grey sweatshirt. The taller one was a Vulcan, and wore a black wrap cardigan. It was asymmetrical in design and featured a large hood, which he had down so that it fell in soft folds around his shoulders. There was embroidery along the side in silver, but it was in Vulcan, which Garak couldn’t read. He had a pretty good idea of who these two were, though.</p><p>“Good morning, I can’t say I’ve seen the two of you around here before,” said Garak, inclining his head. The Vulcan nodded at him, and the human held up a hand in a half-wave.</p><p>“You’d be right, we’ve not been here before,” said the human, offering him a genuine smile. </p><p>“Are you looking for anything in particular? Something custom made, perhaps?”</p><p>“Sorry? Oh, no - we’re just looking around, seeing what’s… what’s around,” said the human. The Vulcan seemed more like he was tailing his partner than browsing, but Garak let that slide.</p><p>There was something in the human’s expression - was it excitement? Anticipation? He looked like he wanted to say something.</p><p>“I hope you don’t mind my being rude,” said the human, “but we really are very new to this area of the quadrant, and well… I can’t say I’ve encountered anybody who looks quite like you before.”</p><p>Garak smiled broadly, and approached the two men.</p><p>“I’m a Cardassian,” he said, “Garak, at your service.</p><p>He waited for the reaction. Would it be horror? Disgust? Surely he had at least been filled in on the situation</p><p>Instead, it was confusion that crossed the human’s features.</p><p>“They - the crew said there were none of you left here, what made you stick around?”</p><p>“It would be too difficult to reach my clientele, all the way from Cardassia Prime,” said Garak, “but no matter. Would you perhaps allow me to direct your attention to the rack down the back of the store? I have quite an interesting selection of Terran-style shirts there… some of them I even had help with designing, from some of the other more permanent residents on the station.”</p><p>Garak gestured towards the back of the store, where there was indeed quite the collection of brightly coloured shirts. </p><p>“I had several requests for this style - I believe they’re called ‘hawaiian shirts,’ - when a number of our residents went on holiday to Risa.”</p><p>“Oh, Risa!” said the human, addressing his companion, “we’ve got to go there one day, I’m going to take you! You’ll like it there, it’s nice and warm-”</p><p>The Vulcan raised an eyebrow in answer, and the human stopped mid-sentence, returning his attention to the shirts.</p><p>“I like the one with the surfing lizards,” he declared.</p><p>“Lizards cannot surf,” said the Vulcan, “these are indeed… very Terran.”</p><p>Garak stepped smoothly towards them.</p><p>“It’s funny that you should say that - Ambassador Spock purchased one during his last visit to the Vulcan embassy here, actually. He said it reminded him of someone.” </p><p>The two men froze. The tips of the Vulcan’s ears went very green, and his fists clenched by his sides.</p><p>It was, of course, Kirk who found his voice first.</p><p>“Does <em>everybody</em> here know who we are?” he said softly.</p><p>“I think it’s a little difficult to miss the fact that you’ve got one of the most famous starships of all time parked outside, yes,” said Garak. Kirk wanted to glare at him, but the Cardassian had such an expression of mock-innocence on, he couldn’t help but burst into laughter instead.</p><p>“It was pretty silly to expect word wouldn’t get around, I guess,” he said, and Garak nodded gravely.</p><p>“Alas, the price of being exceptional. Might I make a humble suggestion?”</p><p>Without waiting for an answer, Garak rifled through the rack and selected one of Ari’s designs - the print on the shirt was the station itself, set against a bright floral backdrop.</p><p>“A souvenir of sorts.”</p><p>Kirk held it up against his chest. Spock raised both eyebrows, the Vulcan version of sighing and rolling his eyes. </p><p>“Captain, I must remind you - we do not currently carry any of the currencies used by the non-Federation traders on this station.”</p><p>“Oh - oh yes,” said Kirk, although he couldn’t hide his slight disappointment, “sorry - I got caught up. We really were just having a look around the place.”</p><p>“Perfectly understandable, <em> Captain </em>,” said Garak, who had gotten what he wanted out of the interaction anyway.</p><p>Outside, voices raised in a commotion as multiple footsteps clanked along the floors of the promenade. All three of the shop’s current inhabitants moved swiftly to the doorway to see what the hell was going on. Kirk made to leave, but Spock’s hand landed in the centre of his chest, holding him back.</p><p>“Captain,” he said, his eyes suddenly carrying the intensity they often did when he was trying to figure out a particularly difficult problem under pressure, “we may be under attack. My suggestion is that we proceed with caution until we know the source of the threat.”</p><p>“Oh no, people run around the promenade all the time,” said Garak, but Spock shushed him with another wave of his hand.</p><p>“I find that my mental faculties have been dampened. Imperceptibly, but I have noticed that the change was quite sudden. My hypothesis is some kind of airborne anaesthetic. Not currently at a concentration that will affect humans of our size.”</p><p>Kirk nodded, suddenly all business.</p><p>“We’ve got to figure out where it’s coming from. Garak, how much do you know about the station? Do you know where someone would be able to flood the life support systems like this?”</p><p>Garak shook his head, not doing a particularly good job of disguising the laughter in his eyes.</p><p>“Gentlemen, have you ever heard of a Cardassian vole?”</p><p>*</p><p>As it turned out, the vole hunt was a monthly occurrence on Deep Space Nine - one that its inhabitants seemed to have made a sport out of. The running along the promenade had been a small group of volunteers - Robertson from ops the other night was among them. They were chasing down a few particularly big specimens, too big to be affected by the small amount of anesthizine gas released in order to knock them out.</p><p>Kirk had stepped out of Garak’s store to watch - the others in the group had been a green-haired girl and a slightly hungover looking officer that Kirk thought he recognised from when they’d called the infirmary to get some help for McCoy yesterday… surely not the CMO? Kirk hadn’t missed the way Garak leaned against the doorframe, his gaze lingering on the gangly young man as he talked excitedly to his two friends, flapping his hands around to illustrate whatever point he was currently trying to make. The three of them must have gotten a communication from someone else who was involved in the hunt, because they had all stopped, listened intently for about five seconds, and then bolted off in the opposite direction, laughing as they brandished the little round portable transporters they’d developed for this specific purpose. All in all, it looked like a lot of fun. Kirk looked back at Spock’s impassive features, and Garak’s barely disguised fondness as the two of them watched the group run off.</p><p>“Humans.” they said simultaneously.</p><p>*</p><p>Doctor McCoy made his way to the infirmary of Deep Space Nine after a fairly uneventful shift back on the Enterprise. In his hand he brandished his extremely secret and reasonably illegal hangover cure hypospray, imagining that with the way he’d woken up himself, the young Doctor could probably do with one as well. If he hadn’t already developed his own, that was. Upon entering the infirmary, it appeared that he had not. Julian was slumped in a chair, a stack of odd circular devices on a bench next to him, and a green-haired patient asleep in one of the biobeds. He had his head tilted back, with his arm resting across his eyes. From what he could see, the doctor was looking quite pale.</p><p>“Hey kid,” said McCoy, and Julian nearly jumped out of his seat, limbs flailing for purchase as he got his bearings.</p><p>“Doctor McCoy - Bones - Leonard!” spluttered Julian, standing up to greet him.</p><p>“Those are certainly several of the names I go by, yes,” said McCoy, fidgeting with the hypospray, “but what I wanted to say was-”</p><p>“I’m so sorry about last night!” said Julian, looking quite mortified, “I didn’t mean to imply-”</p><p>McCoy held up a hand, and he quieted.</p><p>“You don’t need to apologise. I should be the one apologising, I was… Well I was drunk, for one. And this is all a lot to take in. And I'm still... ah, I'm still not happy about all of this. As a matter of fact, it's haunting the hell out of me... but that's not your fault. I shouldn’t’ve taken it out on you, and leaving like that when you were all kind enough to have me around, well, it was pretty unkind of me.”</p><p>Julian blinked. He hadn’t expected this.</p><p>“Anyway,” said McCoy, growing slightly awkward, “I just wanted to. Well, you look like you could use a pick-me-up.”</p><p>McCoy held up the hypospray, and Julian’s eyes grew as wide and as round as saucers.</p><p>“Is that… the hangover cure?” he whispered, looking at it in awe.</p><p>McCoy laughed nervously, “you know what this is?”</p><p>“It’s one of the challenges at the Starfleet medical academy, to see who can figure out how to replicate the formula- ah!”</p><p>The old style hyposprays still stung a little, and it caught Julian by surprise when McCoy jabbed him.</p><p>“Well, did anyone manage it?”</p><p>“You think I’d be on my fifth coffee of the day if we had? No, no one has any idea what’s in that thing.”</p><p>“Well,” said McCoy, “it’s actually mostly vitamins. And a stimulant. And, uh…”</p><p>He leaned over and whispered very softly in Julian’s ear. The younger doctor’s mouth fell open.</p><p>“That’s illegal!”</p><p>“Tried and trusted,” said McCoy with a wink, pocketing the hypospray. </p><p>“You know what?” said Julian, taking a deep breath in and out and then stretching upwards, “you’re right. Oh my god, you’re right! I feel amazing!”</p><p>“What’d I say.”</p><p>“Hey,” said Julian, “if you’re busy that’s fine, but I’ve got a bunch of kids from planetside coming up for a bit of an education session, and then they’re going to get their moba pox inoculations. I know you haven't worked with Bajorans before, so do you want to stick around and uh-”</p><p>The word “help” died on his lips. Was he really about to ask Doctor Leonard McCoy to be his <em> assistant </em>?</p><p>“That sounds like fun, actually” said McCoy, “I can’t say I’ve ever heard of Moba Pox before. It’ll probably be terrible for the timeline or whatever, but I gotta admit it sounds fascinating.”</p><p>McCoy winced at himself, but Julian beamed.</p><p>“Really? Wonderful! That’s very exciting! Do you want a drink while we wait? I can get you some tea - or have you tried Raktajino? It’s a kind of coffee, but the Klingons drink it, so it’s really quite strong-”</p><p>“Klingon?” said McCoy, more to himself than anything. He shrugged.</p><p>“Surprise me. Most of my tastebuds are dead at this point anyway so I’ll give anything a go.”</p><p>Julian physically stopped himself from skipping over to the replicator, and instead stood in front of it with his hands clasped behind his back, rocking back and forth on the balls of his feet.</p><p>“Two raktajinos!” he said, probably a little more loudly than he needed to. There was a strange crunching sound, and about a litre of raktajino appeared - but without any sort of receptacle. It materialised, then immediately spewed out of the front of the replicator and all over the floor. And Julian’s shoes.</p><p>“Oh no,” whispered Julian, “not another one.”</p><p>Savannah stirred from where she was napping on the biobed, and sat up blearily.</p><p>“My technology senses are tingling,” she said, sliding to the floor and making her way over, rubbing at her eyes.</p><p>“Now wait there a moment little lady,” said McCoy, though his tone was friendly “don’t you think you ought to be resting?”</p><p>“What?” said Savannah, still not quite awake yet. She yawned, and then realised what he meant.</p><p>“Oh, I’m not - I’m not sick. Just napping.”</p><p>“I’d say it’s a hell of a place for a nap, but I can’t really talk,” said McCoy, and the two of them shared a smile.</p><p>“Right,” said Savannah, standing in front of the puddle of raktajino on the floor, “I’m going to take a wild guess and say some kind of physical component is going to be missing from your replicator once I take a look.”</p><p>Julian’s brow was creased with worry.</p><p>“Another one? I’d better call this in with Sisko. We’ve got to sort this out, or else there’s going to be nothing left working on the station!”</p><p>McCoy had stood back while he watched Savannah and Julian fuss over the replicator, but now he huffed out a quiet laugh.</p><p>“Good to know nothing ever changes in Starfleet, I guess.”</p>
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